Caroline's Miscellany

Woolworths, New Cross

2009-11-08T12:38:00.005Z

At 12.44pm, Saturday 25 November 1944, Britain's worst V2 attack struck New Cross destroying the Woolworths store as well as badly damaging the neighbouring Co-op. 168 people were killed, 122 injured.

Unusually fine weather had ensured that plenty of people were out shopping that lunchtime, while workers from the neighbouring railway station and children returning from the swimming baths had gone into the store for a drink. Some accounts suggest that there had been a rare delivery of saucepans to Woolworths that day.

There was no warning before the rocket landed on the centre of Woolworths' roof. After a moment of silence the walls bowed, the building collapsed and exploded, and then caught fire. An army lorry was overturned and a double-decker bus spun round by the force of the blast. Rescuers, members of the emergency services and local people, worked to lift the rubble by hand but there was only one survivor. It took three days to clear the debris, which reached as far as Deptford town hall. Tony Rollins, then 13, has shared his recollections on the BBC website:

Sheets of corrugated steel had been placed along some of the gutters to cover what was left of people and blood was seeping out from beneath.There was debris everywhere.I saw several people dead beneath telegraph poles and there were bodies and wounded and maimed laying randomly all over the place.

Everybody who could was roped in to help clear debris and I did what I was asked to give a hand.

The site of the bombing is now occupied by Iceland and New Cross Library. A small plaque on Iceland's wall marks the disaster, while the memorial on Woolworths' own website is archived here. As well as the image above, it includes a full list of the names of those killed. Perhaps the saddest part of this is the final line: and 24 others who could not be identified.

Last year's Remembrance Sunday post is here; Colin Blythe, Deptford cricketer, was killed in World War One.

Changes at Convoy's Wharf

2009-11-07T20:24:00.004Z

Thanks to Deptford Dame for highlighting this article on the Convoy's Wharf redevelopment. It seems that after a long pause, the scheme should soon restart - but with 'minor amendments' and a new architect. The changed plans will have to be approved by the Mayor of London; there's no hint in the article of what the changes are.

Beer from coal

2009-11-06T16:41:00.001Z

This 1959 film doesn't really feature some petrochemical brew - and barely enough mention of coal at the beginning and end to justify its inclusion in 'Mining Review 12th year no 10' - but does show scenes of pub life and the Charrington Brewery in Mile End Road, London.

Where am I?

2009-11-04T16:59:00.002Z

Where can this bird be found? And for bonus points, what bird is it?

(As ever, click the picture to enlarge.)

Ghost signs (27): let's dance

2009-11-03T16:26:00.005Z

Take the Hammersmith & City line to its western terminus, and your train will pull up alongside this fabulous ghost sign. It's on the back wall of the Hammersmith Palais, formerly the Palais de Dance. Opened in 1919, the Palais gradually changed its emphasis from dancing to live music after the Second World War.

You can't dance there any more, as the Palais closed in 2007; dispossessed, the women on our sign have faded to a truly ghostly appearance. However, you can still ponder the now-hypothetical choice between dancing the evening away for five shillings, or enjoying the cheaper afternoon rate of half a crown.

Demolition in Deptford, 1839

2009-11-02T16:46:00.002Z

Before the regular police force was established, watchmen took responsibility for law and order. They were paid a modest wage, and could also earn rewards for catching criminals. Rather than being a centralised force, they were under the control of each parish. Those in Saint Paul's Deptford had a watch house, useful as a place to lock up wrongdoers until they could be dealt with. However, the Metropolitan Police Act 1829 meant the transfer of policing from local watchmen to the new London-wide force, and it seems that the parish then decided to dispose of the building.

To get an idea of what the watch house was like, one of our best sources is in fact the information produced preparatory to its demolition. Cleverly, the building's fabric was auctioned off - not only did this raise money, but the requirement that the materials be removed in three days was a clever way of getting the building demolished.

The list of lots suggests a very sturdy building with plenty of oak, stone and ironwork:

LOT
Fifty feet run of stoat oak open fencing, with 12 do. strong posts
The whole of the stone coping on top of building, with do. on chimney
The whole of the slate roofing, with boarding rafters, and plates under do.
Strong oak ceiling under rafters, with iron-work attached.
Four stone window cills, with 2 do. steps, stone stringing round building, tablet, and hearth.
Four window frames with strong iron bars, shutter, & c.
Three strong iron bound doors, with frames and locks
The stout oak floor, with the whole of the double and single lining, benches, quarters, and iron bound round interior of building
The whole of the brick-work, including chimney of building
All the lead on building, at per cwt.

Image from Myths & Legends.

London to Brighton Veteran Car Run

2009-11-01T11:14:00.001Z

It may be stood on a taxi rank, but this is not a new design for London taxis! Rather, it's one of a surprisingly large number of very elderly cars making the journey from London to Brighton today - yesterday, there was chance to enjoy seeing them parked along Regent Street.

All pre-1905, they were commemorating a special event in British motoring history: the Emancipation Run which celebrated the passing of the Locomotives on the Highway Act 1896. Before the Act was passed, cars were restricted by a speed limit of 4mph and - even more restrictively - the need to be preceded by a man walking with a red flag. The law had been targeted at steam traction engines, but a test case in 1895 had confirmed that cars were treated as locomotives rather than (horseless) carriages. A campaign for reform met with reasonably prompt success, and vehicles under three tons were exempted from the restrictions. Now, they could speed across the country at a racy 14mph. How better to celebrate than with a trip to the seaside?

The original London to Brighton run is recreated annually, preceded by the Saturday show. A mixture of Regent Street shoppers and vintage car enthusiasts crowded around these fascinating vehicles. Given the number of people, it made sense to photograph details rather than 'portraits' of the cars. I particularly like the diversity of designs - the steering wheel, for example, had not yet become standard - and the features clearly borrowed from the horse-drawn carriages these cars would eventually replace.

A Deptford ghost story

2009-10-30T16:18:00.000Z

As All Hallows' Eve draws near, it's time to imagine a dark autumn night, wind howling and lightning flickering. Settle down by the imaginary fire and listen to a supernatural story from 1804:

Ghostly apparitions, seem at present, to be the order of the night. – Reports are now abroad that a new ghost had made the town of Deptford the scene of its midnight perambulations, and that it is generally seen at first under the meeting-house, in Butt-lane. The clergyman who officiates at the meeting-house, is said to have already watched for several nights in the determined resolution to lay it. This new Ghost does not seem to assume a shape so scaring and terrific as that which has lately been put on by some of its spiritual brotherhood. On the contrary, it assumes, as well as a Ghost can be supposed to assume, an appearance and a language of gaiety and good nature that announces a very strong posthumous propensity to former habits, and which wonderfully prove that

“Ev’n in our ashes live our wonted fires.”

The report is stated as follows: - The watchman, who attends near the spot we have mentioned, declares, that being perfectly sober, and in full possession of his senses, he saw a certain Gentleman, who had recently been buried, rise from his tomb, and heard him, with the good humoured tone for which he was distinguished, call for a pot of beer, and invite the watchman to share it with him. The watchman, however, was too much alarmed to accept the kind invitation; but mentioning the circumstances the next day, he prevailed on two other watchmen to keep him company the following night, and await the return of the apparition, which wonderful to relate, they all three saw and heard the same person call for and solicit a pot of his favourite beverage. These facts, it is added, have been solemnly stated before Mr. Dornford, the Magistrate, and have created no small bustle and apprehension throughout the neighbourhood.

This convivial ghost may not have been seen for some time, but he gives us the perfect opportunity to raise a beer in tribute. Happy halloween!

We are shadows

2009-10-29T16:22:00.001Z

This fine sundial is on the facade of a building in Fournier Street, off Brick Lane. It has been a synagogue, a French church and a Methodist chapel, and is now a mosque. Until the late nineteenth century, the vaults were leased to brewers and wine merchants.

The inscription, 'umbra sumus', translates as 'we are shadows'.

Samuel Scott, leaper and diver

2009-10-28T16:42:00.003Z

In November 1840, Deptford had an unusual visitor: the American 'leaper and diver' Samuel Scott. Posters for his show, performed from the mast of a ship moored at Lower Watergate, promised that he would

DIVE with his Head Foremost and Feet Foremost,
The HEIGHT of 167 FEET!
with his Face striking the water first, and will go through many Feats of Agility aloft, and in the water, he will LEAP with TWO CATS, one on each side of the body, upon the above-mentioned days. - S. S. having gone through the same Performances at Liverpool, Brighton, and many other parts in Great Britain, feels confident, from the patronage he has been honoured with by the Nobility, Gentry, and Inhabitants who witnessed him, that the will be found deserving of the kind support of the Public, upon these occasions.

Scott called himself an American and had apparently already leaped from Niagara Falls. However, it was widely thought that he had in fact been born in Deptford.

Scott's publicity was full of hyperbole: he challenged 'any person in the Universe, for Swimming a RACE.' However, the dangers of his act were not illusory. Part of it involved hanging from a rope looped around his neck; it nearly killed him in Deptford, but he managed to save himself - and took twice as much money as usual from the spectators! However, the same stunt proved fatal the following year at Waterloo Bridge. A newspaper report of the time records both the scene and the measures - some odd to modern eyes - intended to revive him:

On his arrival there could not have been less than from 8,000 to 10,000 persons assembled upon the bridge and along the banks of the river to witness his extraordinary performance. Immediately over the second arch on the Middlesex side and nearest to Somerset-house, was erected a species of scaffolding, composed for two upright poles, and three others crossing them at intervals of about four or five feet, the entire height of which above the balustrades being about 10 feet.

Scott appeared as usual, firm and undaunted, and made several jocular remarks to those around him. Having ascended the scaffolding, he attached the rope he carried with him, which was about 10 feet long, to the uppermost cross pole and after placing some tin boxes round the necks of several of his friends who were to collect money for him, proceeded to commence his performance, observing, "Why you all appear to be cranky." He first put his head into a noose of the rope, and suspended himself for a minute or two; after which he placed his feet in a similar position, and swung with his head downwards. He again mounted the top beam of the scaffold, and, taking a handkerchief off his head, placed it on the top of one of the perpendicular poles. He then seized the rope, and placing it round his neck, exclaimed at the top of his voice, "Now I'll show you once more how to dance upon air before I dive."

The unfortunate man again let himself down to the extremity of the rope with his head in the noose, but had scarcely hung more than three or four minutes when a person named Brown observed that he much feared the man had hung himself in reality, as animation appeared suspended. To this one of Scott's friends replied, "Oh, he has not hung half his time yet." In two or three minutes after, however, shouts were heard in all directions of "Cut him down." Mr. Brown immediately ascended and raised the poor fellow's arm, which on being let go fell heavily back to its original position by his side. This gave convincing proof of the suspension of animation, and renewed cries were raised from all quarters of "Cut him down, cut him down." Some time elapsed before a knife could be procured, and then two persons ascended the ladder, and with the aid of some of the F division of police, succeeded in cutting the man down.

Mr. Havers, surgeon of the York-road, and another medical gentleman who happened to be upon the spot, immediately stepped forward and opened the jugular vein, and also a vein in the arm, but only a few drops of blood followed; and to all appearances Scott was lifeless. A cart was then procured, in which he was conveyed with all possible speed, followed by hundreds of persons, to Charing-cross Hospital. On his admission, it was ascertained by Dr. Golding, the senior physician of the institution, that life was not quite extinct. Under that gentleman's direction, the unfortunate man was, in the first place, subject to the galvanic process; secondly, cupped between the shoulders; and then, lastly, placed into a warm bath, in which he had been but a few seconds when it was ascertained that the vital spark had fled.

After Scott's death, his widow settled in Deptford.

Fiddling money

2009-10-27T16:47:00.001Z

Various Deptford people found ways to accumulate fortunes in the eighteenth century. Shipbuilders, merchants and manufacturers might all amass large sums of money - but John Greenleaf's route to riches was rather more unusual.

A few days ago [in 1788] died at Deptford, John Greenleaf, commonly called Lord Greenleaf, a Fidler, who by playing of country dances at hoops, fairs, &c. had amassed a fortune of 3000 l. Upwards of 600 people attended his funeral. Few sons of Orpheus in higher life die so rich.

Burrow Mump

2009-10-26T09:15:00.007Z

Like a cousin to Glastonbury Tor, Burrow Mump rises unexpectedly from more level countryside and is topped by a church. Both words, 'burrow' and 'mump', mean hill - which perhaps emphasises just how striking its appearance is. Despite appearances, the hill is a natural one; it has probably been used as a place of worship for the past millennium. There have also been attempts to associated it with King Alfred, who did spend time at nearby Athelney, but evidence is lacking.

The current, ruined church is mediaeval and dedicated to Saint Michael. However, the Mump also played a more martial role in the seventeenth century when Royalist soldiers took refuge im it during the Monmouth Rebellion. One of them is buried in the crypt.

A new church was built in the village below at the end of the eighteenth century, and the building has now fallen into ruin. Nonetheless, it gained a new function when the owner Alexander Gould Barrett gave it to the National Trust as a memorial to the people of Somerset who died in the First and Second World Wars.

The walk to the top is a popular one - and deservedly so, as the views are amazing. We walked up after rain showers, so the colours were at their brightest and most vivid (and the hill at its most slippery - sturdy footwear is recommended!).

'Women Scare Me'

2009-10-23T17:08:00.002+01:00

Patronising, sexist and sometimes disturbing: American advice to men on how to 'break in' women workers during World War II. After all, 'a foreman will always have the eternal feminine to contend with'.

(Bonus question: how long before Joe's wife cracks and stabs him with that paring knife?)

Postman's Park (50): another new plaque?

2009-10-22T17:09:00.002+01:00

Following the addition of a plaque commemorating Leigh Pitt to the Watts Memorial, another name has been put forward. The Rev Stephen Arkwright went on holiday to Southwold in 1965. While there, he saw a girl in difficulties in the sea and swam out to rescue her. Tragically, although she and another would-be rescuer were taken back to shore in by a passing dinghy, Rev Arkwright drowned.

Before his death, he had been working as an assistant librarian at Sion College. When Paula Flynn came across his story there, she launched a campaign to have his bravery commemorated in Postman's Park. She is also trying to find out more about the rescue.

It seems that the memorial has gained new momentum. More of its empty spaces may now be filled by stories of 'everyday heroism'.

London Moves Me

2009-10-21T17:02:00.006+01:00

Tomorrow (Thursday 22 October) at 6.30pm, Trafalgar Square is hosting an evening of films about London's transport. Selected from the BFI archives, they cover more than a century and range from Victorian lady cyclists to Piccadilly Circus underground station in 1931 - before coming right up to date with Project One, showing a skateboarder's journey alongside the Thames from the Barrier to South Bank. Pianist Neil Brand will be providing a sound track.

The running time is 90 minutes, so warm clothes and comfy shoes would be a good idea! If the evening is as good as last year's event, it will be worth braving the autumn chill for.

Meanwhile, today's Times suggests that a scene in Underground, a 1928 feature film to be shown on Friday, explains why we stand to the right on escalators. Rather than being an arbitrary decision, it's because early escalators ended on a diagonal so the left foot was still on the moving section as the right foot stepped off. Standing to the right allowed walking passengers to continue on the moving section as they overtook.

Nantes: a chimney

2009-10-20T16:40:00.005+01:00

Another fine example in my chimney collection: this one features on the recently-restored Chateau des Ducs de Bretagne in Nantes. While much of the fortified chateau dates from the late middle ages, the chimney tops a more recent section.

Nantes is now part of Loire-Atlantique, but that's an administrative designation: it was historically the capital of Brittany. Thus visitors to this city will find that although it's no longer officially Breton, the language and culture are still evident.

In 1532, Francois I pronounced here the edict by which Brittany ceased to be independent from France. He built himself a new residence within the chateau walls, topped with elaborate brick and slate chimneys. That it feels more French than Breton in style is an apt reflection of the history made just below.

John Leighton's London honeycomb

2009-10-19T17:11:00.003+01:00

Distrust of public transport appears to be a recurring London theme. A few days ago I mentioned the public's difficulties with watermen, so I was fascinated to see that a century later, concern about over-charging cab drivers led to a 'zoning' proposal.

In 1865 one John Leighton, Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries, suggested that London's boroughs be reshaped into hexagons; each hexagon could be allocated to one of four charging zones. In the centre was the City; around it were three circles with Deptford in the second. The letter and number identifying each 'cell' of the honeycomb would be displayed at every street corner.

Unsurprisingly, the proposal wasn't taken up. The Thames is notable by its absence from the map, for one thing. However, it's a fascinating idea - see the map and more of the story on Strange Maps. Kosmograd play with the idea; look carefully at their hexagonal division of contemporary London and you can see the problem posed by the Thames.

As for Leighton, his interest in London's transport didn't end with its cabs. His last published work was a 1902 pamphlet entitled Tubular Transit for London, suggesting improvements to the Underground.

That was only one of a wide range of interests, though: Leighton was involved in politics as a liberal unionist; he briefly owned the Gentleman's Magazine and was a founder of the Graphic. He also encouraged the collection of bookplates, and was a founding member and Vice President of the Ex Libris Society, as well as a founder of the Photographic Society. He lectured on Japanese art at the Royal Institution and was on the Commission of the 1851 Great Exhibition.

One of Leighton's publications was Paris Under the Commune Or, The Seventy-three Days, based in part upon personal experience:

Powder has done its work, the smell of petroleum has passed away, the house that called me master has vanished from the face of the earth, and my concierge and his wife are reported fusilles by the Versaillais; and to add to the disaster, my rent was paid in advance, having been deposited with a notaire prior to the First Siege. ...

His main career, though, was as a bookbinder, author and illustrator. Born in 1822 into a bookbinding family, he studied as an artist and wrote and illustrated a number of books - many under the pseudonym Luke Limner. Although that work continued throughout his life, from the 1850s he also produced designs for bookbindings. A gallery of his work shows playful, imaginative designs - quite a contrast to the formal hexagons of that borough map.

John Leighton died on his ninetieth birthday, in 1912.

Image from John Leighton, The Royal Picture Alphabet.

bodies in urban spaces

2009-10-18T15:19:00.007+01:00

Over the weekend, the area around London Bridge has seen performances of Willi Dorner's work bodies in urban spaces. It involves twenty dancers forming 'human sculptures' along a walking route, for spectators to spot.

I was one of a large number of people who followed yesterday afternoon's performance. The event was in some ways a victim of its own success: since the dancers have to create each 'sculpture' for a limited time before moving on to the next site (and some of the poses are incredibly difficult to maintain), pressure of numbers meant most people saw only some and arrived at others just as they were ending. The element of discovery was also limited by the presence of a surrounding crowd!

The event, part of Dance Umbrella, was interesting and gathered some intrigued passers-by as it went along. However, the logistics of negotiating through a large crowd on traffic-filled roads were distracting. Some of the poses reminded me of works on the Paris street art walk, and I couldn't help missing the opportunity that had offered to pause and give each piece the attention it deserved.

Autumn

2009-10-16T17:45:00.002+01:00

Now that the signs of autumn are definitely here, a little bit of seasonal-looking vegetation from Lilstock.

Lilstock, street art and a lost harbour

2009-10-14T17:59:00.007+01:00

Although it's associated with urban spaces, street art can be found a long way from the city. I came across this image by the beach in the hamlet of Lilstock.

This stretch of shore has a nearly-secret history. A grassy dip and a bit of breakwater are almost all that remain of a once-thriving harbour. It was established by Sir John Acland to ship coal from South Wales, fuelling the limekiln on the cliff above. Pit props were exported in the opposite direction, and by 1855 the port was successful enough to have its own customs officer. There were also cottages, fishing boats, and even daytrippers stopping off on their steamer excursions from Cardiff to Ilfracombe.

However, after the First World War the harbour had fallen into disuse. Keeping it clear of the pebbles which make up the beach had always been a major job, and the inlet quickly became blocked up. Today, there are few traces of a once-thriving Somerset port and most people are unaware it ever existed. Like nearby Brendon Hill, it has largely reverted to nature and agriculture.

Westminster Bridge

2009-10-13T17:10:00.004+01:00

Westminster Bridge offers famously impressive views of London: Wordsworth was moved to write that 'Earth has not anything to show more fair'. In particular, the presence of the Houses of Parliament at one end virtually guarantees the presence of tourists photographing each other there.

It's not all about scenic sights, though: its history offers a nice illustration of the vested interests affected by the building of new London bridges. When a bridge was proposed for Westminster, the Corporation of the City of London were furious. Until the eighteenth century, they had London's only bridge. As they charged a toll to those who crossed it, new bridges threatened their income. For an indication of how profitable that was, those tolls funded a property portfolio from which the City Bridge Trust would go on to build two further bridges, buy Southwark Bridge from its private owners, and provide much of the funding for the Millennium Bridge. Today it maintains the five City bridges, makes charitable grants and has an annual income of nearly £35 million.

However, the Corporation of London weren't alone in being upset. If you wanted to cross the Thames at any point other than London Bridge, you had to pay a waterman to row you across. These boatmen were highly trained, serving a long apprenticeship in which they learned the complexities of Thames navigation. However, they weren't always popular with Londoners. They were famously insulting, and also notorious for changing the price mid-river. Indeed, one got more than his just desserts when he tried the trick in Deptford in 1764:

On Saturday Evening an Oyster Woman went on board a Ship off Deptford, and on her Return to shore, the Waterman, who carried her, demanded Threepence as his Fare, which she refused; and Words arising, she immediately stabbed him in the Belly with Oyster Knife, for which she is sent to Maidstone Gaol.

Whatever the opposition groups thought, there was certainly a popular appetite for the bridge. It was paid for by lotteries and private capital, and built in 1750; this was the only crossing between London Bridge and Putney, so it proved pretty popular. Indeed, the City was moved to respond by widening their bridge and clearing it of the buildings which had crowded either side. They also built their own new bridge, Blackfriars, which opened in 1769.

Westminster Bridge was so well-used that by the mid-nineteenth century, it was subsiding: the current bridge replaced the original in 1862. It gained a new feature at its southern end for the millennium, the London Eye, from which I took today's photograph.

Chord at Kingsway Tram Tunnel (2): the subway

2009-10-12T16:50:00.004+01:00

Kingsway Tram Subway opened in 1906, taking single-decker trams under the road from Southampton Row to Aldwych. It was part of the route from Highbury to either Tower Bridge or Kennington Gate; there's a south-east London connection as some of the cars were stabled at New Cross tram depot, now New Cross bus depot.

In 1931, the subway reopened after works to make it suitable for double-decker trams. However, its days were numbered: after the war, it was decided that buses should replace trams, and in 1952 the tram services closed - and with them, the subway. Although tests of its suitability for motor vehicles were carried out, only part of the tunnel was ever opened to traffic as the Strand Underpass. The rest of it has mainly been used for various kinds of storage - and as a film location beginning with Bhowani Junction in 1955. Props including station signs remain from more recent productions including The Escapist.

The subway is rarely open to visitors. The venue, then, is as interesting as the artwork for many of the visitors to Chord.

Free Deptford walk: Along the Black Waterfront

2009-10-10T20:32:00.003+01:00

Unfortunately I'll have to miss this one, but on Monday 19 October the Thames Discovery Programme are holding a Black History Month event in Deptford. S I Martin, author of Britain's Slave Trade, will be leading a walk highlighting the Black heritage of Deptford and the Thames.

The walk begins at 2pm outside St Nicholas' Church; for more information and booking details, click here.

Chord at Kingsway Tram Tunnel (1): the artwork

2009-10-09T21:34:00.009+01:00

Chord is a huge art installation by Conrad Shawcross: two extraordinary machines with flower-like arrangements of spools. They move from the centre of their track towards the ends, weaving rope as they go. The dark tunnel, the gentle movement and subdued sound and colour make this a strangely hypnotic experience.

This event runs until 8 November, with hourly tours which must be pre-booked here. For more about the Kingsway Tram Subway, click here.

Signposts (2)

2009-10-07T16:54:00.003+01:00

France took rather longer than Britain to standardise its road signs. Before the state took over, Michelin did a great deal to help the motorist - and to advertise its products.

Michelin began providing signs in 1910. Although it gave them freely to local authorities, the company was careful to include its own name. Among other organisations providing signs were the Touring-Club de France and Michelin's competitor, Dunlop.

However, in 1946, government regulations finally brought standardisation and sponsored signage came to an end. Nonetheless, some examples remain, such as this one in the picturesque Breton town of Jugon Les Lacs.